Seared: The Return of the Elves, Book 4 (EBOOK)

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• Found family
• Fated mates
• Different worlds
• Accidental pregnancy
• Tortured hero
• Enemies to lovers
• Second chance romance
• Friends to lovers
• Polyamory (MFF – one book only)
• Unrequited love
• Anti-hero
• Single parents
• Twisted mate bonds
• Mental health struggles
• Recovering from loss
• Finding one’s place
• Star-crossed lovers
• Fish out of water

Chapter 1

The pain of impact seared through Ralan’s side, forcing him awake. His muscles convulsed with the remnants of the fire that had licked through his body, followed by the cold of death. Shuddering, he blinked his eyes open and searched the dimness for the source of the threat. But he saw nothing except the usual shadows of his bedroom.
His heart gave a leap as realization settled in.
The same vision again.
His eyes adjusted to the light, and the chair beside his bed took shape—but higher than it should have been. Had he actually fallen out of bed? Dreams of future strands were often tumultuous, but they hadn’t caused him such physical turmoil in centuries. He’d been trained to remain motionless during visions even while sleeping.
Groggy and sore, Ralan shoved himself to a sitting position. He rubbed his hand along his arm, still hurting from the impact. Didn’t seem broken. At least he wouldn’t have to share this embarrassment with Lial. The healer was biting in his sarcasm at the best of times.
Ralan sent out a tendril of magic, lighting the spell globe beside his bed, and propped his elbows against his knees while his body adjusted to the present. As a seer, he often woke at odd times from some vision or another. But it wasn’t usually of his own death. How many times was he going to have to experience it?
Was it even real?
Gods knew his gift hadn’t been reliable lately, and it was complicated even at the best of times. Nearly every choice sparked a new possible future, a strand to follow. Not even a seer of his power could track them all, and most of the time, he didn’t even try—not unless it was for something serious. Through training, he’d grown adept at recognizing and tracing the important strands. Only the visions were beyond his control.
Despite his skill, he’d failed to See so much—the attacks on Lyr, Kai and Arlyn’s capture, Kien’s interference on the rescue mission. After three centuries of refusing to look into the future, at least voluntarily, Ralan’s power had grown erratic. Or perhaps it was punishment. Megelien, Goddess of Time, had not been pleased by his decision to forego his Sight.
The door clicked open, and his daughter, Eri, padded in, her long white nightgown swishing around her bare feet. Despite his worry, Ralan couldn’t help but smile at the sight of her as she rubbed her tired eyes and squinted through the dim light toward the bed. His love. Hard to believe she was already six.
“Laial?” she asked, frowning at the empty bed.
“Down here.”
Eri paused in the middle of the room. “On the floor?”
Wincing, Ralan pushed his shaky hand through his hair. “I took a tumble. Did I wake you?”
“Yeah.” Suddenly, she giggled. “I didn’t know grownups fell out of bed.”
He huffed. “The vision was a bad one.”
“Oh. One of those.” Just like that, her humor fled, a spark of power taking its place in her eyes. “Want me to search the strands? My Sight is clear, and—”
“No!” Ralan said. As her lower lip poked out at his harsh tone, he pushed himself to his feet. His stomach roiled at the movement, but he ignored it as he strode to his daughter. Sighing, he pulled her into his arms. “Forgive me, love. This one…I hope you don’t find it. You’re too young for this.”
Eri snuggled her head against his shoulder, and her soft arms squeezed him close. “Tomorrow might change stuff.”
Ralan pressed a kiss against her hair and headed toward the door. “Perhaps.”
But he knew it wouldn’t. After the first time he’d had the dream, Ralan had searched the strands carefully. All of the favorable ones required one thing—his death. Nothing would change that. But if his daughter hadn’t realized that yet, he didn’t want to tell her. Chances were good that she’d See for herself soon enough.
A lump caught in his throat as he pushed into her room and strode over to her bed. He’d have to find someone to raise her. Gods.
“Laial?” Eri whispered, her hand pressed against his cheek.
“You need to sleep,” Ralan answered. He knew she’d been asking what was wrong, but the explanation tangled in his mind, unable to work free. Not yet. Dammit, she was only a child. “I won’t have you overtired.”
He settled her on top of the mattress, tucked her blanket around her, and dropped a kiss on her forehead. She smiled blearily up at him. “Night, Laial. Don’t fall out of bed again.”
Ralan chuckled. “I won’t.”
It was one promise he could keep. After a dream like that, he wouldn’t even try to sleep.
#
Cora stared into the shimmering blue portal, brighter than the moonlight spilling through the trees. She lifted her hand and skimmed her fingers close. So close. A tremble shook her as power flooded in, though her skin didn’t make contact. By the Divine, but it was glorious to be so close to her home.
And agony knowing she could never return.
As energy flowed through her, restoring her reserves, a moan slipped free. Nothing could compare to the power of her homeland. Her fingers flinched against the urge to touch the shining blue. If only things were different. If only.
“Come back, Cora.”
The words whispered through her mind, and Cora flinched. “I can’t.”
“Orn is betrothed now. He’ll not bother you.”
Her brow furrowed. Betrothed? Orn had tried to capture Cora for three centuries, though his efforts had lessened over the last fifty years. Had he given up? Would it change anything if he had? Her family had lost a great deal of status at her escape, and Orn’s marriage to another wouldn’t alter that.
“My failure will never be forgotten,” she whispered.
“You failed nothing.”
“Tell that to Father.”
Pain squeezed her chest, and she stepped back, cutting herself off from the magic—and the voice. Without her connection, the blue faded, leaving nothing but a shallow depression in the side of the hill. She blinked her eyes against the sudden dark and the tears that had gathered despite her resolve to avoid them.
Every time she visited, it was the same. The power. The entreaties to return. Cora spun away and forced her feet down the path to her house. It was news that Orn had decided to marry. He must have found another way to solidify his hold on the crown. Regardless, returning wasn’t something she was willing to risk.
Maybe she should bond to Earth’s magic and be done with it.
Each world had its own flavor of energy, some more similar than others, and her people could only gather power if they bonded with that place. But it was permanent and intimate. She would have to touch that world’s energy from time to time or it would become painful. A link also made her vulnerable to any changes in that world’s magic, like the poison that had recently crept into Earth’s energy. Even after three centuries, she hadn’t decided if she wanted to bond to this realm. It would be the ultimate acknowledgement that she would have to stay.
A concession of her weakness and defeat.
Forcing her mind away from that line of thought, she headed for the soft glow of her porch light beyond the small grove of trees. Despite her years in the human world, she wasn’t rich. But when the eight-acre plot containing the portal had come up for sale, she’d been able to afford it. Only a Galaren would have known about the gateway the land held, since other fae races used a different portal and humans were generally clueless.
The wooden deck creaked as Cora climbed the steps of her back porch. The house was old and needed work, but she’d had the structural problems fixed and the wiring replaced already. Over the last 342 years, she’d lived in way worse—tents, shacks, tenements. There was a charm and strength to this little craftsman, and someday it would be gorgeous again.
If her shop kept doing well.
Cora opened the back door and strode through the kitchen. Her body hummed with energy—no way she could sleep now. She headed straight to the small spare bedroom to the right of the kitchen and flipped on the lights. Her magic might lend itself to earth and fire, not cloth, but she didn’t need magic to create. A few hours of design work would calm her down.
Her fingers gripped a pencil as she sat in front of her desk and reached for her notebook. A dress that wavered like the portal’s blue light? Or ready-to-wear in tones of red and brown? Cora set to sketching, letting the ideas flow free.
And shoving the pleading voice of her mother to the back of her mind.
#
Ralan tapped his fingers on the arm of the chair and considered how to broach what was on his mind. Lyr sat behind his desk, pouring over an alliance contract with Kai’s newfound father, Naomh of the Sidhe. He’d looked askance at Ralan but hadn’t said anything when Ralan had plopped down in one of the reading chairs beneath the skylights in the long, oval room.
How could he ask his friend to watch after Eri without telling him the full truth? It wasn’t the time for Ralan to reveal the vision of his impending death, but he had to make sure his daughter would be cared for by someone outside of court. He could think of few more suited than Lyr and his bonded, Meli.
Arlyn, Lyr’s daughter, would also be an excellent choice, as both she and Eri were part human. But Arlyn was young, not even thirty, and new to Moranaian ways. She had enough to worry about without taking responsibility for a precocious six-year-old. And as Lyr’s heir, she would be around to help guide Eri, too. There would be no prejudice against his daughter’s human blood here.
Well, nothing for it. The longer he delayed, the tougher it would be. Ralan cleared his throat, catching Lyr’s attention. “I am relieved that the meeting with my father went well.”
Lyr’s eyebrow rose, and Ralan held back a grimace. An awkward beginning, indeed—especially since the meeting had happened days ago. But his friend merely tapped a finger against a nearby stack of papers. “Easy for you to say. You don’t have to provide frequent reports to the king. As if I needed more paperwork.”
Ralan smiled. As Myern of this estate, Lyr was at the top of the third branch down the Callian line. The third duke, as he’d explained to Eri. Every branch beneath reported to him, so his friend had much to sort through at the best of times. “Sorry. At least he wasn’t angry that I had you deploy part of the army. Or that we risked war with the Sidhe.”
“Sure.” Lyr waved a hand. “Now are you going to tell me what this is really about?”
Mouth going dry, Ralan nodded. “It won’t be long until I have to go after Kien. My brother’s madness must soon come to an end.”
“We all know that,” Lyr said wryly.
“I’m not taking Eri.” Ralan leveled his gaze on Lyr. “But I don’t want her at my father’s court. It isn’t her place.”
The corners of Lyr’s lips turned down. “What do you mean? She’s next in line for the throne after you.”
“Eri will never be queen of Moranaia.”
His friend tensed, then leaned forward as the silence stretched. “I can’t imagine you would speak casually of her death. So what—”
“As I said, it isn’t her place. She is not best suited and will not be chosen.” Ralan’s fingers tightened around the arm of his chair until the wood bit into his palm. He wanted to tell Lyr all of it, but he couldn’t. Revealing the truth now would ruin everything. “She will grow into another task.”
Though annoyance lined Lyr’s face, he didn’t press for answers. He knew better than to demand too much of a seer. “What are you asking, then?”
“Will you care for Eri while I’m gone?”
“How long will you be away?” Lyr asked.
Ralan swallowed hard at the suspicion lurking in his friend’s eyes. How much had he guessed? “I have not Seen a precise time, but I don’t believe it will be much more than a month. Possibly much less. I will return from time to time, as well.”
Eyes narrowing, Lyr leaned back in his seat. “I have a feeling that isn’t all.”
“The future strands are perilous. I should return from Earth without incident, but I would like to know Eri will be cared for if something goes wrong.” Dammit, Lyr deserved to know the certainty of Ralan’s death. But he hadn’t lied. He should return from Earth at least once. The problem was what happened after. “I realize I ask much.”
“You want me to raise Eri if you don’t return?” Lyr rubbed his fingers against his temples. “Me? I know nothing about her gift. You think I’m the best choice to guide her?”
“In all my visions, you and Meli are the best,” Ralan said. “And you should have time to find her the right teacher. Though her Sight developed early, her other magical gifts have not.”
Lyr went silent, his expression unreadable as he considered the issue. Finally, he shook his head. “I’ll obviously have to speak with Meli about this. Unlikely or not, I will not agree to raise a child without her consent.”
Ralan’s mouth twitched, but he didn’t let his relief show. There had been one possible future where Lyr refused outright. “Of course.”
“Have you pinpointed the time you’ll need to leave?”
“Not yet.” Ralan ran his hand through his hair as the frustration of that failure bit at him. No matter how often he searched the strands, he couldn’t find it. “Something hasn’t happened yet, I suppose.”
Lyr frowned. “Don’t you see all the possibilities?”
“I used to,” Ralan muttered. “Unless Megelien wished otherwise. But She has said nothing to me of late.”
“That sounds ominous.”
Ralan’s gaze landed on the view of the valley beyond the estate. “Let’s hope it is not.”
#
The bell above the door gave a jaunty jingle as it opened. Cora glanced up from the purse display she’d been organizing and caught sight of the newcomer as he entered. Her brows pinched. She sold men’s clothing at The Magic Touch, so it wasn’t unusual to have male customers. It was the strange aura surrounding him that grabbed her immediate attention.
Cora forced a smile to her face anyway. “Welcome. Is there anything I can help you with?”
The man’s skin was the palest she’d ever seen, as was everything else about him. His short hair was stark white, his lips a faint pink slash. Even the brown eyes he focused on her were unusually light, almost taupe. Combined with the way his energy raised the hair on her arms, the effect was uncanny. She didn’t detect evil, but this guy was far from innocent.
“I’ve heard there are…many ways you grant aid.”
“Really?” Cora straightened at the mocking lilt to his voice. Was that a code or a threat? She let a hint of magic pool in her palms in case it was the latter. “How so?”
He smiled. “Clothing is magic. As am I.”
“Of course.” He did know the code. Some of her tension eased, but she found she couldn’t relax. Danger surrounded him too closely for that. “If you’ll follow me?”
She strode past him, flipping the door sign to Closed, and then on to the opposite side of the room. She opened a small door marked Staff Only that was tucked behind a display of shoes. It was, of course, not the staff room, though it did have a small table, water cooler, and coffee stand. As the customer entered behind her, she gestured him toward a chair and closed the door.
“What kind of clothes do you need, and what do you have to trade?” Cora asked, not bothering to attempt pleasantries as she sat across from him. Most of the fae who came here had no interest in idle chit-chat.
“So direct,” he answered softly.
Of course Sir Creepy would be the rare exception.
“Forgive me,” Cora said with a smile. “Most prefer to stick to business.”
“Ah, yes.” The man leaned forward, and she fought to shove aside her nervousness as his odd, not-quite-dark energy wafted around her. “Business. Very well. I need a full wardrobe.”
Cora eyed him, taking in his form, and then nodded. “I believe I have your size in stock, but it depends on a few things. First, is there a specific style? Climate?”
He waved a hand. “Human style.”
“But for what region?” she asked, biting back impatience. So many of the fae were clueless when it came to Earth. “Are you staying in this area or traveling somewhere else?”
“You do not need to know my location,” he snapped.
Cora almost rolled her eyes. “Not specifically. Humans dress differently in different areas. Surely it’s the same where you’re from?”
His lips pursed. “I’ll grant you that is true. I’ll be staying in this portion of the land called United States. How far could I travel with such a wardrobe?”
“You could get by anywhere in this country and most nearby, as well as much of Europe for certain.” Cora paused, chewing at her index finger as she thought. “Really, any major city with enough access to Western culture. You’ll be an obvious foreigner, but not like you would be in whatever you have on under that glamour.”
The man shook his head. “Then why did you ask?”
“Well, if you’re wanting to truly blend in, you’ll want clothes more traditional to the region you’re traveling to,” she answered, shrugging. “Not so much if you don’t mind looking like a tourist.”
“I see.”
He stared at her, and Cora wondered if he was about to simply get up and leave. It had happened before, though usually during the trade portion of the discussion. She’d gained a reputation for fairness amongst the supernatural creatures in the area, and newcomers to the human world were often sent her way. Without human money, they couldn’t just walk into any store. The local fae had come to trust her not only for clothing but for transferring their riches to useable cash. Only a few decided a human wardrobe wasn’t worth the effort and chose to use their energy maintaining glamours instead.
He seemed likely to be one of them.
But the strange man surprised her by giving a sharp nod and pulling a small velvet pouch from his shirt pocket. He spilled the contents on the table, and Cora couldn’t help but gasp. Diamonds. The guy had a pouch full of nothing but diamonds.
“Umm,” she managed to get out.
His laughter filled the room. “I was told you’ll help convert this to human money in addition to trading for a wardrobe?”
She’d had gold and various gems, even a diamond here or there, offered before. But this? “I have to be honest,” Cora began, swallowing against the dryness scratching her throat. “I’m not sure I can handle this much.”
“Really?” His voice lowered. “I would imagine a woman like you handles many things.”
Her body froze at the innuendo. “If you can’t be professional—”
He chuckled again. “Forgive my lapse.” He draped himself against the back of the chair like a prince, his eyes dancing. “I’m given to understand that humans find such transactions suspicious. I wouldn’t need it all at once.”
Cora eyed the glimmering pile. There probably wasn’t a single one of them under three carats, and even without testing them, she’d bet all of her savings that they were flawless. Maddy’s father usually set the stones into jewelry to offer in his shop or sold the gems to some of his contacts. There was no way he’d be able to do that so easily with all of these.
“I’ll have to check with my associate on how long this might take.” She met his eyes. “If you want clothes quickly, I’ll need something closer to an even trade.”
The man straightened, gave a nod, and then pulled out another pouch. But from this one, he only took a single gold coin. “Will this do for the wardrobe?”
Cora took the coin in hand and let her magic surround it. Pure gold. “Depends on how fancy you want. Designer stuff will be more.”
He lifted a shoulder. “Casual for now. I can buy more with human money later.”
“If you’re sure.” Cora hesitated before asking her next question, always a risky one with the fae. “How will I contact you when I have more information about the diamonds? You haven’t given me a name.”
“Nor will I. Yet.” The man gathered all but one diamond back into the pouch. “I’ll leave you one for now. If you prove worthy, perhaps I’ll gift you with my name. I’ll return periodically to check for news.”
He stood to leave, and Cora held out a hand. “Wait. Do you have any particular preferences when it comes to clothes? Colors or fabrics you hate?”
The man shrugged again. “You’re the designer. I’ll wear what you choose.”
Cora watched, dumbfounded, as he strode from the room like he owned the place. She’d been around enough nobles to know one when she saw one. Hell, she’d been one. Whoever the man was, he was high ranking. Shaking her head, she drew the diamond into her palm with the gold coin and headed toward her office as the bell jingled his exit.